


just take my wallet

by Anonymous



Series: Flower Anon's MCYT collection [4]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream and Tubbo are cousins, Gen, I wouldn't quite say dead dove but it's definitely rough, Implied dadschlatt, Murder, Parent Cara | CaptainPuffy, minor time travel shenanigans, open/ambiguous ending, puffy and schlatt are siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 04:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30066951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Murder in the town of L'manburg was a rare thing. Yet somehow, it still happened.(Do not send to cc's. Ever. This is by far the darkest work I have written so far and is not something I would like the cc's to be exposed to, not do I believe they would like to be exposed to this.)
Relationships: Cara | CaptainPuffy & Clay | Dream, Cara | CaptainPuffy & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Eret & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Flower Anon's MCYT collection [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149773
Kudos: 10
Collections: Anonymous





	just take my wallet

**Author's Note:**

> song in the title is "just take my wallet" from jack stauber.

_Your mama's crying, your mama's crying for you. Mama's lying. Oh, what you're trying to do to you?_

She was a mother. It was in her blood to cry when her baby was hurt. It stung more when the tears were falling for the wrong reasons. Her nephew's body was bloodied and bruised, arms and legs pulled and contorted into shapes that were definitely unnatural. Something about looking at her brother's angel in such a condition felt wrong. Especially when her son was standing over him, axe in hand, covered in his cousin's blood.

It felt right, but so, so wrong to watch her baby be hauled away in an armored car. He'd done horrible, vile things, but he was still her son. She didn't think she could forgive him. The police had questioned her on his upbringing, and she found she couldn't say where she'd gone wrong. She had to travel for work, but she tried to avoid it where she could, wanting to stay with her family. It hadn't been enough, she supposed.

_Good times are singing. They sang, they sang._

She remembered when it was easier. When her son would run to her excitedly after every day of primary school. The days of picking up her nephew so her brother could get to an interview, of refusing to let him give her even a little money. She probably remembers the day he died most. Father and son went in a similar way, both taken cruelly and quickly.

It'd been said heart problems ran in the family, but they'd been fine until then.

She took her nephew in as his only relative. She raised those boys the best she could, encouraging their friendships with the neighbor boys and their groups. She'd watched them flourish into young men who could take the world by storm. Every day her nephew looked a bit more like his father, his face looking narrow and his eyes staying warm but gaining a sharpness that had never been there. Her own son eventually grew too, long and lanky, looking more an adult and less like the pudgy faced newborn she'd taken in all those years ago.

_Those times are echoing through me, through me._

It'd been a normal enough night. She'd driven over to another house in the neighborhood to pick up the house's youngest son for a sleepover. They drove in silence, the boy flipping through some social media app, likely texting the third member of their group who wouldn't arrive until the next day due to a prior commitment.

Their house was nothing special, it was the one she'd grown up in and her mother before her. The yellow pain on the walls was starting to chip, and she'd have to get on the roof to replace some of the shingles when the weather was nicer, but overall the house wasn't the worst looking in the neighborhood.

It'd been normal until they got to the front step, a noise rung out and the tall boy at her side jumped like it wasn't the first time he'd heard the sound. She simply chalked it up to her sons being boys and something broke, the boy had two older brothers, so that must have been a common occurrence in his home. The lock clicked like always, the door creaked, but by god the smell. It assaulted her nose, the scent of iron and bile heavy in the air.

Their guest's breathing hitched as he realized, and he grabbed his phone and of all things, a bottle of mace he kept in his bag for emergencies. His eyes were bugged out, his steps looking more like a cornered animal than a sixteen year old boy. The room felt like it was shifting, a box of dark stone that was blisteringly hot, not the living room of her home.

She followed him into the kitchen and the scent somehow got worse, but paled in comparison to the sight. A child, her nephew, lay in a pool of his own blood. His face was bruised and bile filled his mouth. All up and down his bare back were deep cuts, some looking infected, green and pus filled. She wouldn't have believed the sight if not for the still breathing boy beside her screaming.

It was then her son entered, eyes a dangerous storm grey. An axe was in his hands, caked in blood just as his clothing was. She couldn't see, but she knew his knuckles were bruised. "Don't you see? This is all your fault, gremlin. You did this to him, all because you wouldn't obey."

She called the police in the end. She didn't trust them, but it was the only thing she knew to do. He hadn't even resisted. Just calmly let them take him.

_What's the softest way to say? You took away my friend, my buddy?_

The boy she'd brought to stay the night called his father in tears. In the end his family came to comfort her, the friend who'd been unable to come cancelling his plans to be there with them. It didn't feel real still. The eldest son, the elder twin, had been a friend of her son, though their stiff rivalry didn't always make it look that way. He'd known he could get rough while they wrestled and fenced, but never once did he think he'd kill someone, especially a member of his own family.

_What's the kindest way to say, you took away my friend?_

His friends were the next to know, the pair of boys shocked. They'd known he was strangely competitive when they played games together but for that competitive streak to drive him to murder was a thought they'd never had. The older boy they hung out with was equally shocked, he'd been friends with them all since they were toddlers, being a young man with a strong paternal instinct who'd cared for them like an older brother.

_What's the kindest way to say? You took away my friend, my buddy?_

Of them all, the one most shocked was a friend of both boys. A brunette man, 19 to her boys 17 and 21. He'd always been closer to her nephew, their relationship always blurring lines but in a way that was normal for boys their age. He'd been close to her son as well, but always seemed to jump when he came up behind him. She wasn't terribly surprised to see the same sort of scars on his back when he gave testimony. The blonde boy who'd discovered the body with her had similar scars, but to a lesser extent than the other two.

_What's the kindest way to say… The end?_

The trial passed in a blur, the proceedings and the funeral too much for her. She sold the house, she couldn't bear to be in it's walls any longer. She hadn't responded to any calls from the state prison on visiting rights. She'd fled town, never answering calls from her old friends and family.

In her absence, the town grew closer. The twins and the young man campaigned to the city council to create a town holiday for the young, bright man whose presence had made their worlds brighter. The rest of the young adults joined them, and the date of November sixteenth was made a day of mourning, but one of celebration as well.

It was three months following the tenth anniversary of the murder when one Theseus "Tommy" Innit-Craft had come home again. He'd been on the road for a number of days, traveling with his friend. He looked to the older man, Eret Esempi, and laughed. "Y'know, I shouldn't laugh about this, but I realize Ms. Puffy and her boys are… were… probably like us. Tubbo died to an axe after all, the sick bastard even told me it was my fault. The vault conflict, the disc war, _fuck._ " He threw his head into the wheel, not caring about the loud honk coming from the car, they were parked in a motel lot, why did it matter?

Eret grabbed the can in the cupholder, joining his friend in his laughter as he tipped the alcohol back. "That motherfucker chose us as his victims again huh? Now that you're mentioning it, it makes sense. She said everything felt hot for a few seconds when she found his body. Like the vault. We're so stupid."

They agreed, and continued the drive to the once kind town of L'manburg, laughing dryly the whole way now that they knew the naming of the town was no coincidence. Time and space were fickle bitches, and they'd made a mistake a decade ago, but couldn't find themselves caring as they belted songs from a time long forgotten, a place that both flourished and never existed.


End file.
